


Fair Trade

by ruric



Category: Highlander: The Series, Leverage
Genre: Community: comment_fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-14
Updated: 2009-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retrieval specialist meets immortal with a sword.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Trade

Eliot still takes solo gigs between jobs to keep his skills up and prove to himself he can still work alone.

Which is how he comes to be standing in a remote cabin at the business end, the very pointy, sharp, business end of a huge sword.

Eliot’s never liked weapons - disarming someone who’s waving a gun or knife around isn’t really difficult - but no-one’s ever pulled a fucking sword on him before. 

When he thinks of swords this is what the word means to him - three plus feet of shining steel, honed to a sharp edge, looking like something an ancient king should be waving around. 

Must weigh a fucking ton and Eliot has no idea how the guy wielding it - and yeah let’s face it you don’t _wave_ a sword like that around, you own it and fucking _wield_ it with attitude - can hold it so easily.

Long fingers wrapped around the pommel, arm extended, no tremor in the muscles and he’s not even breaking in to a sweat. Makes it look as light as a feather. 

Patience keeps Eliot still and the fact that the blade is resting just over his jugular vein. One deep breath, one unfortunate cough, and he’ll be bleeding out all over the pretty Persian rug underneath his feet. 

Eliot has the feeling that tall, slim and pale over there wouldn’t be the least little bit inconvenienced if he did.

Dressed in jeans and a baggy jumper the guy is giving him the slow once over. Eyes tracking from Eliot’s face down to his scuffed boots and back again. He doesn’t mind cause it gives him time to do a little assessing all of his own. Despite the apparent slimness Eliot’s willing to bet the body under those clothes is all whipcord muscle, his stance is sure, weight spread evenly and there’s no weakness for Eliot to exploit.

Adam Pierson, supposedly quiet, reclusive academic stands there looking like something sprung from a medieval story – because the only way you get to wield a heavy weapon so easily is with practice. Lots of practice.

The hazel eyes that finally meet and hold his gaze regard him with a mixture of contempt and anger.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing here?”

Cool, clipped and precise and Eliot resists a reflexive twitch to hide the book in his hands behind his back. He’s never given much thought to the morality of what he does - people want things found and Eliot goes and gets them. For a fee.

“Client asked me to get this.”

“So you’d steal one of my books,” Adam’s lip curls into a sneer. “Do you even appreciate what you’ve got in your hands?”

Eliot’s getting kinda sick of people taking one look at him and thinking he’s just muscle. You don’t survive in his line of work without doing a little background so his lip might just be curling into a matching sneer when he answers.

“You mean this old thing?”

He lifts the book, bringing it close the blade and is rewarded by seeing Adam’s eyes narrow. Tooled leather cover, punched brass at the corners and the binding is a fine piece of work even if what’s inside wasn’t.

“Cosmographia, the first printed atlas. Based on Ptolmey’s work. This here’d be the one printed in Bologna in 1477 not the one published in 1486 in Ulm. Last time it hit the auction circuit in ‘06 it fetched $4 mil.”

There’s just the tiniest sense of victory in seeing the flicker of surprise on Adam’s face.

“Would you consider giving me the name of your...ah client?”

The sword hasn’t moved at all but Eliot can feel the threat level go down a notch and his lips twitch into the start of a genuine grin.

“What do you think?”

“No. I don’t suppose it would be ethical for you to tell me who you’re working for. Even if he turns out to be one of the bad guys.”

Eliot feels safe enough to give a careful shrug. 

“Depends on your definition of bad.”

“You don’t want to know my definition of bad.”

Something in Adam’s tone stills the first smart ass response Eliot was about to make and his gaze rides up the blade to meet Adam’s.

“You gonna use that thing or are you gonna let me go?”

The look he gets back is calculating and _hungry_. It sends a shiver of anticipation down Eliot’s spine and sets a curl of heat licking in his belly.

“No. But we could negotiate a way for you to get out of here with your skin intact.”


End file.
